Marvel 1875
by spoffyumi
Summary: The year is 1875 and many characters from the Marvel Universe have gathered for Jane Foster's debut into London society. Inspired by the "Marvel 1602" comics.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Debut

"Miss Jane! Stop reading this instant!"

Lady Foster strode into the room and snatched the offending volume from her daughter's hands before Jane could react.

"Young lady, tonight is the night of your debut! Why, you've not even put on your shoes! All of London society is in the ballroom, waiting for your appearance, and you are... reading!"

Jane rolled her eyes. "Mother, it takes no more than a moment to put on shoes."

"And what are you reading?" Lady Foster looked at the book with a pinched expression. "Oh, not Charles Darwin again! Jane, please."

"I promise not to speak to any of my suitors about evolution," Jane said. She hoisted herself up off the bed. The handmaid, Darcy, scurried in behind Lady Foster and did her best to make it appear as though she had been there the entire time. Jane tucked a loose curl back into Darcy's cap.

"Hurry, hurry," Lady Foster said, smoothing down Jane's pale pink gown and fussing with her daughter's hair. "They shall announce you soon."

Jane slipped on her shoes and followed her mother. Through a gap in the curtains at the top of the grand stairwell, the trio looked down on the sea of guests. "Honestly, Mother, how can you expect me to compete for suitors alongside those other ladies?"

She stared mostly at Miss Romanov, a striking redhead. Natalia had the exotic advantage of a Russian accent and the lithe body of a ballerina, and had the attentions of a throng of male suitors. There were others who took the spotlight from Jane's pale skin and dull brown hair: Miss Bishop, who wore a purple gown and had already stolen the attentions of Lord Barton; the blonde-haired blue-eyed Miss Carter; and Miss Grey, whose eyes enchanted even the other ladies.

"Think not of your competition," Lady Foster advised. "Here is a fine choice: Lord Odinson, of Asgard."

Jane had no trouble recognizing the newcomer to London by his Norwegian looks: blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, eyes that shone blue even from so far away. The lord's broad shoulders strained his suit. Jane thought he looked like a Viking trapped in Regency garb.

"He IS a fine choice," Darcy purred in Jane's ear.

"And who is that beside Lord Odinson?" Jane asked. The man who spoke with the Odinson was every bit his opposite: tall and wiry, with long black hair and a narrow face. His green ascot matched his eyes, which flashed mischievously as he looked about the room.

"Oh, that is Lord Odinson's brother. Adopted." Lady Foster's tone made it clear that this was a fault. "He is called Lord Laufeyson, although frankly the title is debatable." Jane's mother dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. "Here is another good choice. Captain Rogers. I must say, a man in military dress, and one such as he..."

Jane and Darcy both peered at Lady Foster, who now fanned herself.

"There is something noble about a man in uniform," Jane admitted, and noted the two men flanking Captain Rogers. "He brought friends, as well."

"And of course, Lord Stark." Lady Foster had regained her composure. "He has a bit of a reputation... but the family is quite wealthy. Inventors, all of them. Perhaps your interest in science might intrigue him."

"I hear he enjoys visiting Miss Potts late into the evening," Darcy said of the Stark's housemaid. Even Jane had heard these rumors.

"Lord Banner is a scientist as well as a philanthropist," Jane pointed out.

"All of London knows about Lord Banner's temper," Lady Foster snorted. "Please, Jane. We do not need a scandal."

Jane rolled her eyes again, just in time for her father to arrive and announce, "It is time."

She took his arm, and followed him to the top of the grand staircase. "Lady Jane Foster," came the announcement, and suddenly everyone in the room was staring up at her.

Jane felt her face go hot. She had an urge to push her hair away from her face, but it had been so coiffed and pinned that she dared not touch it. Instead, she focused on descending the stairs without falling. Thankful to have her father's arm to steady her, she managed to make it halfway down before she glanced up and caught Lord Odinson's gaze.

And then she was falling.

Strong arms encircled her waist and prevented her from pitching headlong down the stairs. At first she assumed her father had caught her, but then she became aware of a burly presence much different from his. "Lord Odinson," Jane gasped.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Jane," the lord responded, lifting her to her feet as though she weighed little more than a bird. The lord's voice was deep and powerful.

Jane had never been one of those ladies who swooned or acted the fool for a man, and she had always looked down upon those ladies who behaved thusly. Yet here she wobbled on her own two feet, unable to move. She feared meeting Lord Odinson's eyes again. How else might she humiliate herself and shame her family? Odinson could keep his arms around her waist, however… the man's body felt like a wall.

"Brother, give the lady some air." This smooth, musical voice came from the lips of Lord Laufeyson. "You have all the court graces of a trained bear."

Odinson moved away, leaving Jane's side cold. She shot Lord Laufeyson a look of pure evil. The dark-haired man grinned.

"Apologies, my lady, if I seemed too familiar," Lord Odinson declared. "Please, allow me one dance to prove that I can behave in court."

"Of course," Jane said, her voice breathy in that way she found so annoying in other girls.

"And allow me the second dance," Lord Laufeyson said, still grinning.

With a noticeable decrease in enthusiasm, Jane muttered, "Fine." Then Lord Odinson swept her onto the dance floor and Jane's ability to think flew away.

XXXXXX

Across the dance floor, the three men in military uniform drank from glass cups too dainty for their hands. "She is a lovely girl," mused Captain Rogers, watching Lady Jane with the Lord Odinson.

"I am already bored of looking at her," Sergeant James Barnes said. His gaze had been drawn elsewhere.

"More men than women here," noted Sergeant Wilson. "I think I'd have better luck mingling in the servants' quarters."

James laughed. "Some women prefer exotic men."

"And some men prefer exotic women." Wilson gave a nod toward Miss Romanov and raised his eyebrows. James turned his back toward the red-haired lady and glared at Wilson, who shrugged. "Nothing wrong with exotic, my friend! Although I find it offensive that my coloring is considered exotic. I am London born and raised, just like you."

"I was born in Scotland," James corrected.

"How exotic!" Sergeant Wilson mimed a woman swooning.

Captain Rogers ignored the banter of his friends and kept watching the crowds. He had hoped for a certain someone to make an appearance, but the lady had not appeared. In his searching, he found himself continually distracted by a pretty blonde. Her silver gown had a long tie round the neck and an open back. Rogers swallowed thickly. For all his experience in battle, he had never faced the battlegrounds of courtship.

He turned to James. "What do you think, Bucky? Should we mingle? The man has to make the first move, right?"

"I've forgotten how awful you are in these situations," James said. He slung an arm around his friend's shoulders, still amazed that he could do so without slouching. Steven Rogers had been sickly small as a child, when he and James became friends. Once they'd both joined the army, however, and seemingly overnight, Steven had filled out and grown about a foot. "Let us discuss this in a manner familiar to you. Have you selected a target?"

"Bucky…" Steven moaned. Then he pointed out the blonde.

"Good choice," Wilson said. "Barnes, you need help with your target?"

"Stuff it, Sam," James snapped. He turned back to Rogers. "What sort of approach were you considering?"

"I would say… 'Lady, I must be in heaven, for I am looking at an angel!'" His friends broke into laughter. Steven's face fell.

"No. Just… no." It took a few moments for James to regain his composure, not helped by Wilson's guffaws. "You can barely speak around a woman. Try offering her a drink once she is finished dancing, and take care not to spill it on yourself. Or should you notice her dance partner lacking, you could cut in. Not that your dancing would be much improvement."

"You always did have a way of building up my confidence," Steven said wryly.

A low feminine voice broke into the conversation. "What about the brunette over there?"

Three heads swiveled to look at the tall, striking redhead.

"She's pretty. Her family is quite wealthy, her father is in the publishing business. She does a lot of philanthropy." Miss Romanov raised an eyebrow at Captain Rogers, who stared open-mouthed.

"I… uh… I…"

"What my friend means to say," James interjected, "is that Miss Bishop has been captive to the attentions of Lord Barton since the two arrived." His smug smile faded. "Have I… met you before?"

"Have you?" Miss Romanov asked. She held out one gloved hand. "I am Natasha Romanov."

James took the proffered hand and raised it to his lips.

"What Bucky said," Steven managed to say finally. "I mean, Miss Bishop is lovely and all, but not very available."

"Bucky?" The raised eyebrow was back.

James groaned. "Childhood nickname," he explained. "My full name is James Buchanan Barnes."

"James," Miss Romanov purred.

"Are you sure we have not met before?"

Natasha turned back to face the dance floor. "Are you not interested in Miss Jane? She is the belle of this ball."

"I thought you were Russian," Steven said. "You don't have an accent."

"Would you like to talk about me, or would you like me to help you find a wife? I can assure you, I would do a better job of this than your friends."

James and Wilson looked at each other in mock offense.

"By all means," Captain Rogers said.

"Very good. Now, what about Miss Carter?"

XXXXXX

Kate attempted to stare holes through Lord Barton's face. What in blue blazes was he going on about? Why did he not ask her to dance already?

"How many drinks have you had already?" she demanded.

He stopped talking and looked for a moment like he had no idea what he had just been talking about, then rubbed the back of his head and did that squinty-eye face that Kate found adorable, though she'd never admit it to him. "Uh, five? I could use some strong coffee."

"Clinton, your American habits are offensive."

With a shrug, Lord Barton tilted back his glass and finished off the champagne within. "Have you ever had coffee?"

"No."

He looked at her. Men had never looked at her the way Clinton looked at her. Most men tripped over themselves to compliment her in hopes of gaining her father's favor. Lesser men leered at her in the streets. Not Clinton Barton, newly Lord Barton, thanks to a distant uncle's death. Despite being orphaned and growing up with dirty circus people in America, Clinton had more manners than any other man Kate had ever met. They had first made acquaintance at another similar event - these sorts of things happened nearly every week in London - and continued to meet one another.

"You don't know what you're missing," he said finally.

Kate gazed up at the ceiling, searching for God to grant her patience with this stupid, stupid man. He had been looking at her, he clearly enjoyed her company, for he never seemed to leave it to pursue other women, and yet here they were, talking about coffee while he became inebriated. If this was courtship, Kate was going to throw him off the roof.

Jane Foster's parents had outdone themselves with this party. Everything was tasteful and in the latest fashion, and they had weighed the odds in their daughter's favor by inviting what appeared to be every bachelor in London. Then again, Miss Foster was short on female friends. Most of the ladies in London society looked down on her for the way she treated Darcy like an equal rather than a servant, and of course for her interest in science. Kate actually admired the way Jane educated herself. A lady who sneaked into the university at night to be apprenticed by the scientists there made Kate smile.

Clinton had procured another champagne from a passing waiter. With a sigh that went unnoticed by her companion, Kate watched Jane dancing with Lord Odinson. The girl was smitten. Already. First dance of the night. The rest of these men were out of luck. No one was going to be able to compete with the god-like bronze man who now had Jane in his arms. Which left the rest of the men available for Kate. She looked around.

Ugh. Lord Stark. She could not stand that man's smug face, no matter how "philanthropic" he was.

Now here was a man she might find interesting: Baron von Lehnsherr. Dark-haired, visiting from Germany and staying with Dr. Charles Xavier - the same man giving Jane secret lessons on genetics. Dr. Xavier was notably absent tonight, but his ailments made such events difficult.

"Are you even listening to me? Am I talking to myself?" Kate heard Clinton say.

"I apologize," Kate said, trying not to sound sarcastic and failing. "Did you ask me something or were you talking about food again?"

"I asked if you would like to taste coffee," he repeated, rubbing the back of his head again. Was he blushing? Was this his way of finally calling on her?

She smiled. "That sounds lovely."

In response, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the edge of the dance floor.

"Wait, what? Now? But we have no chaperone…?"

XXXXXX

From the base of the stairs, Lockert Laufeyson watched his brother dancing with Miss Jane. He exuded a relaxed demeanor, yet he watched the happy couple with a dark intensity not wholly unnoticed by the other guests. Thorgood was the golden son, favored of their father, just like the god he was named after. Even when Lockert kept his ambitions to himself, Thorgood found a way to steal them away. For months Thor had been courting the Lady Sif, and Lockert had hoped that finally, with Thor distracted, he would have the opportunity to find a wife for himself. Miss Jane had everything Lockert required: intelligence, wealth of her own, and a loveliness she did not realize she possessed. The intelligence was key. He wanted a woman equal of his own cleverness, the one trait he admired about his namesake, the trickster god Loki.

Yet within the first five minutes of arriving at the Foster's estate, Thor had Jane in his arms while Loki stood alone.

This particular waltz seemed to never end. Loki glared at the string quartet for a time before noticing Lord Barton leading a young lady away toward the kitchens. Emerging from the kitchen was the young maid he had seen earlier with Jane. With a glance around, Loki headed in that direction.

The fun was already beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Cutting In

"Pardon me, might I cut in?"

Jane emerged from a haze to find a darkly handsome man offering his hand. "Lord Stark?" she managed to say. Her fingers dug into Lord Odinson's shoulder.

"Please, call me Anthony. I could not help but notice that our friend Thor here has been monopolizing your company," Lord Stark continued.

Against Jane's will, Lord Odinson moved away, bowing slightly. "I apologize, Lord Stark. I am not familiar with the customs of this country."

"Not a problem, good chap." Anthony slapped the much larger man on the shoulder. "I'll take Miss Jane around the dance floor a few rounds, then you might have her back. If she wants you, that is. I must say, my dancing skills are unparalleled."

As Lord Odinson drifted away, Jane murmured, "Wait..." but Lord Stark had already whisked her off, perfectly in time with the music.

Jane found herself face to face with the man rumored to have had relations with half the women of London. She frowned and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Everything you have heard about me is true," Anthony said.

"Oh. Well, of course I was about to ask. Proper etiquette for conversation." Jane looked around for Lord Odinson. Thorgood Odinson. _Thor_. In her studies she had only read briefly of Nordic mythology, but Thor matched all the qualities of the god he was surely named after. She sighed.

"I understand, Miss Jane. Though I am a man, I am not immune to Lord Odinson's physical presence." Jane looked at Lord Stark sharply. A smile played across his lips. "I'll have you back to your new suitor in a short while. One must keep up appearances. I am sure your dance card is full, and you wouldn't want to cause offense."

"No," Jane murmured, thinking of Lord Laufeyson's claim to her second dance. She did not see Thorgood's brother anywhere. A small part of her hoped he might have found someone else to dance with, leaving her free to dance with Thor for the remainder of the evening. Logically, however, even if she should have to endure a dance with Thor's brother, it might be a good idea to make a favorable impression. Lord Laufeyson might be her brother-in-law someday.

"You yourself have a reputation," Lord Stark was saying.

Jane tripped slightly as she fought the urge to slap Lord Stark across the face. "Pardon me?" Jane said.

"Oh, not _that_ kind of reputation." Stark smirked. "I have heard of your secret meetings with Professor Xavier. Genetics is your interest? How scandalous."

Without meaning to, Jane found herself smiling. "At the moment. I am mainly interested in physics and astronomy."

"Perhaps you might like to come by my estate and tour my laboratory. My work covers a number of fields you might find fascinating."

Jane blushed. "I am not sure…"

"This would be entirely platonic, I assure you," Stark said. "And now, I believe it is time for me to let you go."

"Thank you, Lord Stark." Jane curtseyed. "It was a pleasure." Surprisingly, Jane said this with sincerity. She turned and saw Lord Odinson standing at the edge of the dance floor, but barely had time to register his beautiful face and the fact that he was speaking to Miss Carter before hands encircled her waist and twirled her back out onto the dance floor.

XXXXXX

Finally Steve was making awkward circles on the dance floor with a Miss Watson, and Sam was hunting down Lord or Lady Foster to give him a tour of their aviary, and James could have a moment alone with Miss Romanov. He considered asking her to dance, if only to keep her from disappearing, but what he wished to ask her seemed too delicate a topic for the dance floor. Instead he stood beside her with their elbows brushing and tried to think of how best to ask.

After several minutes of awkward silence between them, he blurted out, "I feel as though I have met you before."

"So you said earlier."

"And you avoided a direct answer to the question earlier, as well."

"Did I?"

James sucked in a deep breath. "Do you always play such games, Miss Romanov?"

She looked over at him and smiled. "Shouldn't you already know the answer to that question?"

Normally James was the picture of gentlemanly restraint. As a younger man he had always been invited to balls and such, and dragged Steven along with him. The ladies had always fluttered their eyes and insisted he sign their dance cards.

Since returning from battle, James had found himself with a temper and disturbing holes in his recall. This woman had found that nerve without even trying. Her face niggled at a part of his missing memory and it frustrated him that she would not help him remember.

His hand clenched into a fist at his side.

"Oh, here he is," Miss Romanov said.

James, thrown off by the change in topic, glanced around, but did not see any new guests at the party. When he turned back to Miss Romanov, she placed one hand on his shoulder and leaned in as though for a kiss. He froze.

Her cheek nearly brushed his, and he felt her breath tickle as she whispered two words into his ear.

XXXXXX

The servants were well accustomed to ignoring the scandalous behavior of the upper class during a ball. They hardly turned an eye when a handsome young lord with unkempt blond hair walked into the kitchen with a lovely brunette lady in tow, until said lord began opening and closing the cupboards.

"What do you think you are doing?" asked the head cook.

"Looking for a coffee pot," the lord said.

While the cook sighed and did her best to accommodate his demands, she did not see the tall man in the green ascot entering the kitchen on the heels of Darcy.

Darcy slipped a petit four from one of the dessert platters on her way through, then paused by the back door to consider the wine rack.

"Champagne not strong enough for your tastes?"

Darcy jumped and turned to face Lord Laufeyson, hiding the petit four behind her back. "Oh, it's just you." She returned to the wine rack and nibbled on her stolen treat.

"Just me?" Loki frowned. "Is that any way to address a Lord?"

Slipping a dusty bottle from the bottom of the rack, Darcy said, "You aren't truly a lord."

"I'm more a lord than you are a lady," Loki said. He moved so he stood before the girl. "I apologize, I have not made the best first impression. I am Lord Laufeyson, of Asgard. You are Miss Jane's servant, are you not?"

"I am," Darcy said. She looked Lord Laufeyson up and down. "Look," she sighed, "you're a handsome man, but I think Miss Jane only has eyes for your brother."

"My brother is a womanizer. I only have Miss Jane's best interests at heart. He has quite the reputation in our home country, and to avoid scandal, Father sent him to seek a wife here. And he sent me along to keep him in line. I should like to enlist your help in seeing that Miss Jane, who is a lovely, innocent girl, does not get hurt."

Darcy considered this, popping the remainder of the petit four into her mouth. Then she used her teeth to pull out the wine cork and washed it down. "You think he would ruin Jane's reputation?" she asked finally.

"He was courting a lady in our country for seven months," Loki told her. "Then it was discovered that she was in a delicate condition."

"What can I do to help?" Darcy asked.

"My brother does have an affinity for bosomy women." Loki's eyes drifted down from Darcy's face.

Darcy shrugged. Her décolletage was her best feature, after all. She cocked an eyebrow at Lord Laufeyson, took another swig of wine, then pushed the bottle at him. "Not a problem, then." And certainly not a problem to flirt with Lord Odinson. That man was walking perfection.

XXXXX

The waltz finished and Captain Rogers stepped back and bowed to his partner. Miss Watson dropped a curtsey, then looked around for someone else, anyone else, to be her dance partner. Steven stepped back and gave the gangly chap who rushed in a tight smile. Master Peter Parker, who worked at the newspaper. Miss Foster certainly had an odd social circle.

He headed back to where his friends had been, and found the space empty. He scanned the dance floor. No sign of Sam, or Bucky. Even Miss Romanov seemed to be missing.

A movement caught his eye, and he glimpsed a familiar face before someone stepped in front of him. By the time he glanced at the man before him and looked back, the familiar face was gone.

"Captain Rogers!" The man wore a nondescript waistcoat and was otherwise unremarkable. He thrust out his hand, and when Steven took it, the man shook it vigorously. "I must say, I have heard so much about you. So much."

"Thank you?" Steven said. "Uh, who might you be?"

"Sir Coulson. Philip Coulson. We have never met before. Not officially, anyway."

Steven extracted his hand from Sir Coulson's grasp. He wasn't sure where to begin. "Sir? You are knighted?"

Philip waved a hand. "Service to the Queen, and all that. But you, sir! You ought to be knighted. I have kept abreast of your exploits overseas. Quite thrilling! Most never made the papers. Secret military archives, and all that. I am quite close friends with Commander Fury, et cetera, but you! I have already nominated you for knighthood - I know you are a humble man, and yet I can think of none other who deserves it more!"

A blush had crept across Steven's face. "Thank you, sir," he mumbled, looking around for anyone he knew.

"I am quite surprised the ladies are not throwing their dance cards at your feet!" Philip exclaimed. "Or have you already over-committed?"

"I am not much of a dancer," Steven said.

"Nonsense! A man like you can surely dance. Here, allow me to introduce my friend Miss Carter," Coulson pulled Miss Carter away from her conversation with Lord Odinson.

"Excuse me, sir!" Miss Carter exclaimed. Steven's face grew even hotter. This was the girl in the silver dress who had caught his eye earlier.

"Miss Carter, meet my good friend Captain Rogers. A hero on the battlefield! Surely you would like a dance?"

Miss Carter glanced back at Lord Odinson, who had been distracted by a busty servant girl. "I suppose."

"Wonderful!" Sir Coulson looked entirely too pleased at being Steven's matchmaker, but Captain Rogers was more than willing to take Miss Carter's hand and make his escape.

"Sir Coulson is certainly… enthusiastic," Steven said, carefully arranging himself into dance position.

Miss Carter fit herself into his arms. She was tall, and when he touched her waist he felt bare skin on his palm. His hand immediately began to sweat.

"How do you know him?" Steven asked. He began to move, at the wrong moment, and stepped on Miss Carter's toe. "Apologies."

"Let me lead," Miss Carter said, and he allowed her to pull him along. "He is a family friend, nothing more. He does speak very highly of you."

"I am but a soldier, Miss Carter."

A few turns around the dance floor left Steven struggling for conversation. "Are you… perhaps… related to a Margaret Carter?" he asked cautiously.

Miss Carter narrowed her eyes. "She is my older sister."

Steven barely heard the response. He had spotted one of his friends, disappearing down a corridor. Where was Bucky going with Miss Romanov?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Diversions

It was ruined, the whole thing. Jane pushed her way off the dance floor and headed to the corridor back behind the grand staircase - escaping via the staircase up to her room would have been too noticeable. She knew where she could hide: the library.

Of all people, Darcy had been the one to betray her. Of course, Lord Odinson clearly did not favor Jane, if he could so easily engage Miss Carter in conversation only moments after surrendering Jane to dance with Lord Stark. Then to have his attentions caught by Darcy, presenting Thor with a platter of hors d'oeuvres her bosom might as well have been resting upon, so much so that the man followed Darcy out of the room with nary a glance back at Jane and nary a word spoken between them.

It was only on occasions like this that Jane even thought of Darcy as a servant. They had grown up together, sharing secrets and adventures and games, and though they were nothing alike, they had always been best friends. Jane was quiet and bookish, while Darcy was loud and imaginative. While Jane had not had much interest in the opposite sex, Darcy shared her numerous exploits.

Jane wiped at her eye before a tear could fall. Was Darcy jealous of her? Had Darcy not had enough of men that she could not let Jane have this one? It made no sense.

A couple traversed the corridor ahead of her, and Jane hid her face. It was well known that couples would find an unoccupied chamber at such events to have a secret tryst. Jane hoped that the library would be empty, and when she entered the book-lined room, she exhaled in relief that it was indeed free of another living soul. She carefully lit the oil lamp on the table near the door and commenced pacing the perimeter of the room.

The most hurtful part was the way Darcy had looked right at Jane while exiting the room. As though she wanted Jane to know she was stealing the man with whom Jane had fallen in love at first sight. "See how he looks at me," Darcy seemed to say with her eyes. "You are not special." She knew that Lord Odinson trailed behind her like a dog after a bone.

Never had Jane been so proud as to consider herself special in any way. She had never been the prettiest girl. Perhaps the smartest, but as everyone liked to remind her, women did not have the capacity of a man's intelligence. She had always thought of herself as smarter than Darcy, yet she could not think of a single personal attribute that Lord Odinson might favor above Darcy's attributes.

The smell of aging paper was a perfume which gave Jane some peace. She ran her fingers over the leather book spines. Here was one of her favorite novels, Jane Eyre. Often she had likened herself to Miss Eyre, despite having much better fortune and station. She pulled the volume from the shelf and seated herself upon the worn reading chair by the window. The moon cast some illumination on the grounds outside, but mostly Jane felt alone in the dark, and invisible, and she lost herself quickly in reading.

XXXXX

James's mind had opened as easily as an unlocked door. He stared at Natalia, pulling him along the corridor. He remembered so many things now. Moments the two of them had shared, back in Russia. This was what he had been unable to remember.

As his body moved with the stealth of superior training, mirroring Natalia's movements, James marveled at the way he could now remember all of it: the invasion of a military camp on the Russian border where he had been captured, Doctor Zola and Doctor Faustus performing their disgusting experimentations on his injured body and damaged mind, then being handed over to General Karpov for programming.

He remembered being rescued by his childhood friend, Captain Rogers.

What had happened between then? He was still not sure. He was not even certain what he was doing at the moment. It was as though he was watching himself slip into an unoccupied chamber with Natalia. While his mind wondered why she was staring at the various gilt-framed paintings on the walls and lifting small items from the shelves, his body stepped to the opposite wall and began doing similar things. Then it came to him: they were looking for a way to open a secret chamber.

How easily his mind snapped into this mission. Within minutes he had found the round indentation in a picture frame that released the spring catch for the secret passageway. "Good work, James," Natalia said, and entered the dark space. Once the door was safely closed behind them, she produces a small candle from the folds of her gown and lit the wick.

"I remember, Natalia," James whispered in the near darkness.

The flame danced in her green eyes as she looked at him. Their bodies pressed together in the tight space, closer than societal rules would allow in public, brought everything flooding back. He wanted to unlace her dress and watch it slip from her shoulders, to push the hair away from her neck and kiss the soft skin there.

He reached for her waist, but she moved just out of reach.

"Remember the mission, soldier," she said over her shoulder.

XXXXXX

"What do you think?" Clinton asked.

Kate raised an eyebrow over her steaming cup.

"Coffee is far superior, isn't it?"

She did not want to give him the satisfaction, yet she could not lie to him. "I may never drink tea again."

Clint laughed. "Not many women enjoy black coffee."

"What other kind is there?"

"You can put cream or sugar to sweeten it."

"I prefer it bitter, like me." Kate took another sip.

"You? Bitter? I cannot imagine such a thing."

Amidst the bustle of the kitchen, leaning on their elbows at the servants' table in the corner, the conversation felt intimate. Kate contemplated Lord Barton over the rim of her cup: his scruffy hair, the barely visible bandage on his neck, the mostly healed cut on the bridge of his nose.

"What I cannot imagine," Kate said, "is what on earth you did with the circus."

Clinton feigned mock offense. "You cannot imagine that I possess any skills?"

"I have only been to a circus once, as a child. And in truth I cannot picture you walking a tightwire, or juggling, or performing acrobatics."

"You are correct. I do not possess any of those skills."

Kate smirked. "So? Were you a lion tamer? Or did you clean up after the lions?"

"Neither," said Clint.

"I have very few guesses left in me. Please, tell me your role in the American circus?"

"I shall do one better. I will show you."

Kate sat back, startled, when Clint stood. "Here? In the kitchen?"

"I have all I need here," he said.

Was he the cook? she wondered for a moment, before Lord Barton snatched a knife from the butcher block and flung it.

She emitted a little shriek as the blade sank into the center of one of the tea tins lining the counter. She was not the only person in the room surprised; one of the cooks stared at the knife with eyes agog, and two others stared at Lord Barton with undisguised wonder. Clinton gave a little laugh and wave and seated himself again.

"So, a knife-thrower!" Kate said.

"It does usually impress the ladies," Clinton said, glancing back at the female servants.

Kate gave the two women the stink eye until they shuffled back to their duties. "Not so impressive," she said, rising from her chair. She selected another knife from the block and turned to look Lord Barton in the eye before throwing the knife, without even sighting her target.

The look on his face confirmed her accuracy. She still had to peek to make sure her knife had pierced the tea tin beside the one now holding Clint's knife.

"Is knife-throwing all you're good at?" she asked Clint.

"Uh... well... I do have some other tricks," Clint said, still staring at the two blades, side by side.

The head cook bustled over to the couple. "You will have to take those tricks elsewhere," the woman snapped. "Or we shall have no tea to serve the guests."

XXXXX

Jane was so immersed in her novel that she barely heard the footsteps approaching.

"I hope I am not interrupting?"

Loki's voice, deep and velvety soft, woke Jane from reading so gently she did not even mind. "No, of course not," Jane said. "I should be at the party anyhow. Making sure our guests are feeling welcomed and comfortable."

She made a move as if to stand, but Lord Laufeyson gestured that she remain seated.

"My brother and I attend many balls," he said, turning to look at the rows of books behind Jane's chair. "Thor usually has the attentions of every young maid in the room, and I find myself alone. I enjoy wandering and exploring... although I always end up in the library." He raised an eyebrow at Jane. "Not once have I encountered a lady who might do the same."

Jane blushed, but found herself wanting to smile. After the burn of Lord Odinson's rejection, she was willing to look at his brother in a new light. The dim light highlighted Loki's pale skin, the aquiline profile of his nose and strong chin. While Lord Laufeyson did not have his brother's golden appearance, his demeanor might better suit Jane.

"It seemed your brother was distracted," Jane said quietly. "And I could not find you for the dance I promised."

Loki smiled. "I had already given up on finding a partner tonight. Far too soon, apparently."

He had a lovely smile, with a hint of mischief about it. Jane said carefully, "It must be difficult to live in the shadow of one such as your brother."

"He is a good man," Loki said. He returned to studying the book spines. "I do not fault him for what he is. In comparison, I am no prize."

Lord Odinson could have Darcy, Jane decided. She set down her book and stood. "You are quite the gentlemen for defending your brother. Please, I had best not be hiding at my own party, and I should love to dance with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Fisticuffs

Lord Stark popped a tiny watercress sandwich into his mouth as he wove his way toward the door. He made certain to chat up the important people. "Good evening, Herr Lehnsherr. Are you enjoying your time on British soil?" and "Captain Rogers! Your military exploits are veritably infamous!" Long enough that each guest would certainly recall that Lord Stark had been present at Miss Jane Foster's debut, but not long enough that he was drawn into extended debates or diatribes with any of them, and soon enough he was at the door.

He stood there for a time, making small talk with those passing by and waiting for an opportunity. Finally one arrived: a gentleman in a dark overcoat causing somewhat of a fuss with the house servants, who did not find this man on the list of invited guests. Tony slipped past them, muttering about needing a breath of air, and then he was free.

This time of year, a early night in June, held all the promise of summer. The evening air felt cool on his face, yet he was not cold. Only eager to find his horse and ride to meet –

"Leaving so soon?"

Stark was so practiced at this stealing away that he barely flinched. "Just needed some air," he said coolly, turning to meet the eyes of Lord Banner. "You?"

Banner's dark curls had already begun to frizz from where they had, earlier in the night, been slicked back. He stepped forward from the shadows of the building and into the light thrown from the windows. "You were leaving," he said.

Now Stark could see that Banner's fists were clenching and unclenching.

"Just needed some air, old chap," Stark said. He thrust his hands into his pockets. "Stuffy in there, no? Becomes tiresome."

The tightness in Banner's jaw gave Stark his answer.

"Bruce, please. You know why I was leaving." He spoke softly now, and stepped forward.

Bruce growled at him.

Stark stepped back and put up his hands. "I understand, I really do. Why you are angry. With me. You were counting on me helping you out. And I will!"

"Before or after you left?" Bruce growled.

Lord Banner had a way of doing this to Tony. Leaving him speechless. Normally Tony could charm a lady right out of her dress, and sweet talk a beggar into parting with his last coin. Normally Tony could even talk Bruce down from exploding in anger.

In this case, Tony did see Bruce's point. It was a rare moment when Bruce had confided in Tony that social events gave him great anxiety. "My temper cannot be contained," Bruce said over a pint at the tavern. "I fear everyone in London knows of it."

"Unfortunate, seeing as you are the shyest man I know," Tony said. "When you are not raging, that is."

"I shall never find a wife this way." Bruce gazed into his empty glass. "And perhaps I should not."

"Nonsense! You, above all my colleagues, deserve to find love. How does this sound? At the next event, I will remain by your side, and keep you calm, and find you a nice lady."

Tony could hear his own words echoing in his head. How could he have forgotten?

He supposed he deserved it, when Bruce's fist smashed into his face.

XXXXXX

"My sister?" Miss Carter repeated. "How did you know her?"

"Uh... I apologize, I must go," Captain Rogers stammered as he pushed his way through the crowd on his way to follow Bucky. It was so unlike Bucky to put a lady such as Miss Romanov in a compromising position. His best friend had always been a proper gentleman... but ever since they had returned from the mission in Ukraine, Bucky had been different.

He started off in the direction he had seen Bucky go.

"No," Miss Carter said behind him.

He felt a solid grip on his arm.

He could have easily broken away, but this was society and he needed to behave in a civilized manner. That meant one did not rush off in search of his best friend when a lady had told him to stop. There was only a chance that Bucky was in some kind of trouble, or headed for trouble, and Steve could not very well go off punching Miss Romanov in the face, now could he?

With a wince, he turned back to the lady in silver. "No?"

Miss Carter studied him. She did resemble Margaret in the face - perhaps that was why Steve had been so drawn to her. Margaret's hair had been a soft mahogany brown, while Miss Sharon's hair was a natural blonde.

"I must know how you knew her," Sharon demanded, still holding Steve's arm.

He could not tell from her face whether she was angry or upset. She certainly was not pleased.

"It was long ago," he said. "Before I joined the army. I did not know she had a sister-"

"And… you were friends?"

Steve blushed. He had always cared for Peggy, never imagining she might reciprocate. They had been too young to court, and anyhow Steve had been an orphan and of no fortune before the army. Lord Carter would never have allowed such a thing to take place. Still, he and Peggy had promised to write letters while he was away. He had written letters, and received none.

"Yes. Friends," he confirmed. Five years later, Peggy would surely be married off to some man of high station. She had most likely forgotten all about him.

Miss Sharon looked doubtful.

"Might I inquire as to her health?" he asked, wincing again.

He expected Sharon to tell him about Peggy's new husband and brood of children. He did not expect her to slap him across the face.

XXXXX

Re-entering the ballroom on Lord Laufeyson's arm, Jane felt her spirits lighten. Lord Odinson, that cad, could have Darcy, if that was the sort of man he was. His brother had a far nobler morality.

Happily, Jane's mother had not noticed her disappearance. Lady Foster networked shamelessly with the guests who had sons of marriageable age. Jane wrinkled her nose when she recognized the woman with whom her mother currently spoke: the mother of Lord Toynbee, a man so ugly he was known as "Toad." She prayed that Lady Toynbee had not accompanied her son, and she tightened her grip on Lord Laufeyson's arm.

Lord Laufeyson smiled down at her and swept her up into a waltz.

Her mother might think his title meaningless, but Jane knew Lord Laufeyson would be a better match than Toad. She gazed up at his emerald green eyes and the long black hair that made his cheekbones stand out against his porcelain skin. She could just as easily fall in love with this face as with Thor's.

Lord Odinson had not been a bad dancer, yet his brother was so light on his feet it made the man seem like a Neanderthal. Jane barely had to think as they moved across the dance floor with Loki's hand upon her back guiding her.

All too soon the waltz was through, and the band commenced a slower tune to allow the dancers to catch their breath. Jane found herself near the punch bowl being offered a cup.

"Your father is curator at the British Museum, is he not?" Lord Laufeyson asked. "You must have seen many an ancient treasure up close."

"Yes," Jane said, with that little twinge she felt every time she thought of her father these days. "Of late there is great interest in the Egyptian artifacts. Naturally archeology has been a major part of my studies, although I prefer physics and astronomy."

"Astronomy? You are a fascinating creature, Miss Foster." Loki sipped from his cup. "Does your father does not keep any of the museum's artifacts here?"

Jane swallowed and looked out at the crowd. It was no surprise that her father had not yet made an appearance. "The museum benefactors frown upon that," she said vaguely.

"Unfortunate," Loki said, and took the empty cup from Jane's hand. "I had so hoped to see some of these antiquities tonight. Perhaps in the near future you might consent to be my guide for a tour of the museum then?"

Jane suppressed a grin - her mother always said a lady should not smile too widely. It was finally happening. She was being courted! "I'd be delighted."

Lord Laufeyson did not have any such compulsions about smiling. His wide grin let Jane know exactly how pleased he was. He offered her his hand, and commenced dancing once more.

XXXXX

A blue glow illuminated Natasha's profile. James found himself watching her instead of focusing on the mission. The memories had awakened every nerve ending in his body, it seemed. All of his nerve endings ached for her.

Then he heard a small sound from beyond the end of the narrow staircase they had silently descended, and his body went on high alert. Someone was in the secret room below. He stepped in front of Natasha, though he knew she was capable of defending herself. That glow - there was something otherworldly about it.

They waited, frozen, listening.

It was one man, smaller in stature. This James could discern from the scuffing movements of the man's feet against the stone floor. The man stood to the left of the opening, but out of James's line of vision. He had his back to the stairwell.

Perfect.

He reached behind him. Natasha pressed a revolver into his hand, and he moved forward with both swiftness and silence, so that he was at the man's back with the snub barrel of the revolver pressed into the man's skull before the man even noticed his presence.

Natasha tossed him a small embroidered pillow - he had not seen her take it from the room upstairs, and did not know where she had hidden it on her person until now - and he inserted the pillow between the gun barrel and the man's skull before pulling the trigger. A muffled bang and James watched as goose down, sheep's wool, blood, and brains splattered on the floor and the table where the man had been working.

The blue glow intensified. Natasha's dark eyes danced with the color as she moved, trance-like, toward the object on the table. Though his eyes wanted to drift toward the light like moths to a flame, he forced his eyes to remain focused on Natasha. He wanted her. Now.

Natasha slapped his hand away without even looking at him. He pushed himself at her, moved to grab at her waist, but she grabbed his wrist. She still stared at the blue light. "Not until the mission is over, James," she said. Her voice was a flat monotone. He moved to turn her face away, and her other hand stopped him.

Finally she looked at him. Her eyes shone like sapphires. "Not yet."

"Now," he said.

"No."

He surged forward and pressed his lips against hers, pressed his entire body against hers. Suddenly he felt a crushing blow to his midsection and found himself halfway across the room, sprawled on the floor.

Natasha lifted the metal box with the glowing blue cube nestled inside. She gave James a chilly look as she closed the lid. The change in light made him feel suddenly cold, despite the lanterns lit about the room, and nauseous. What had he just done? Attacked a woman? That was the nausea. Disgust with himself.

She turned with the box and left the room.

Head down, he followed.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Détente

Clinton had just taken the bow and quiver of arrows from the back of his waiting carriage (Mr. Grill, his driver, tipped his hat – nothing to see here) and turned back to Kate when he heard the fighting.

"Over there," Kate said, pointing.

Clint shoved the archery equipment at her, his bare hand grazing her arm (that was something these society people frowned upon, wasn't it? goddamn it, when was he going to stop breaking society rules?), and then he was sprinting across the grass.

The two men were really going at it. Or, one of them was really going at it. The other was simply being beaten. As he neared the scene, he recognized the man throwing punches as the infamous Lord Banner.

"Oof!" Clint tackled Banner and the two hit the ground rolling. Banner managed to clock Clint upside the head. His ear ringing, Clint shook it off and drew his own fist back.

"Don't," croaked the man on the ground behind them.

Clint looked over and squinted. "Lord Stark?" He looked down at Banner. "What are you doing? Isn't Lord Stark your only friend?"

In response Banner swung at Clint again. It was easy enough to dodge. Banner's fit of rage was subsiding. Clint stood and looked down at the man. He actually seemed to be shrinking into himself. Shaking his head, Clint said, "And here everyone thinks Americans have poor manners." He stood, but kept his hands pressing Banner to the ground. "You done?"

"I'm sorry," muttered Lord Banner. He rolled over and sat up, rubbing his face. "You're a good man, Barton."

Clint shook his head, more because of the ringing in his ear than anything else.

"You're bleeding."

Ah, Miss Bishop. He winced, now feeling the blood trickling from his nose. "Not as much as him." He nodded at Lord Stark.

Stark now sported a black eye and split lip. He seemed chipper enough as he dusted himself off and stood. "My own fault, really."

"How so?"

"I've not been a very good friend." Stark held out a hand to Banner, who eyed it for a moment before accepting the help. He slapped Banner on the shoulder. "Well, the night is still young."

"Clint," Kate's voice caught at his elbow as the two friends made their way back to the party. He looked at her. "I'm so sorry. Lord Barton. I did not mean to be too familiar."

He certainly would not mind if she was familiar… he felt his own face heating up, and to his horror, more blood spurted out of his nose. "This looks worse than it is," he said, wiping at it with the back of his hand.

Now Kate was wincing. "Come. Let me help." She pulled off one of her long gloves and pressed it to his nose.

"What about Stark?" he asked.

"He seems fully capable of taking care of himself," Kate said. "I must say, I've heard of Lord Banner's temper, but I've not seen it myself until now. He is truly frightening."

Clint moved toward a stone bench and pulled Kate along with him to sit. "Banner isn't so bad," he said. "I'd punch Stark in the face too, if I spent that much time with him."

Kate chuckled, then pulled the fabric away from Clint's nose. "The bleeding is slowing down."

"I apologize for ruining your glove," Clint said. He reached up and took Kate's hand. "And for bleeding on you."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tried to wipe her hand clean. She stared at him. What did she want? Was she horrified at his manners? He dropped her hand and stood up abruptly. "Where's my bow?"

Kate muttered something he couldn't quite hear. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, he asked her to repeat herself. "You treat your bow better than you treat a lady," Kate said sharply. She gestured to the end of the bench, where his bow and quiver had been placed neatly, and crossed her arms.

"Thank you," he said, for lack of anything else to say. "Are you still interested in seeing my other tricks?"

She looked toward the estate, at the bright lights and the people. She sighed. "Yes," she said.

He tried to smile at her, but winced.

She held out her hand... her bare hand. "Come. Let us find some ice. We would not want you to bruise."

XXXXXX

The slap echoed through the ballroom like a gunshot. Jane barely registered that it was the noble Captain Rogers receiving said slap, and that it was her friend Sharon Carter delivering the blow (although she did wonder why Sharon would make such a scene - after that nasty business with her sister, the entire Carter family had kept a low profile), for at the same moment, Lord Odinson sauntered back into the ballroom. Luckily Loki had stopped dancing in order to watch the drama, else Jane might have tripped over herself.

"There you are, brother," Thor said, approaching Loki and Jane. "Lady." He bowed to Jane. "I see you have had several dances without me, and I now tire of sharing. Please, might I have this next one?"

Jane stared at Thor's proffered hand. She had no desire to dance with him, after what he had just done. Yet Loki was now unwinding his arm from her waist, and pressing her hand into Thor's. She looked at him, confused. Did he no longer wish to dance with her?

"What is yours is mine, brother," Loki said, stepping away.

It was not until Thor had pulled her away to start waltzing that Jane fully realized what Loki had said. She wondered if it had been an error, that he meant to say, "What is mine is yours." That would make sense, after all Loki had said to Jane in the library. He was not the eldest, nor the heir, therefore Loki would have to share all he had with his brother. Yes, Jane decided. That must be what he meant.

These thoughts kept her from thinking too much about where Thor's hands might have been recently. She glanced about the room, searching for Darcy. She wished she could steal away and confront her supposed friend. Slap Darcy across the face. That would be completely unladylike...

"You seem distracted, lady," said Thor.

"Oh, I... I'm concerned for my friend Sharon," Jane said, now looking for the commotion that had occurred just moments ago. Most of the guests had moved on, now that Captain Rogers had apologized profusely and made an ungraceful exit, and Sharon had found a new dance partner...

Jane blinked, and struggling to believe her eyes as Thor twirled her and she craned her neck to get a better view.

That was Lord Laufeyson, now speaking to Miss Carter.

XXXXX

Steve did not know where he was going.

He had exited the room with little thought to direction, although it was the same direction he had seen Bucky going moments earlier. He rubbed his cheek. The slap had only stung his pride, and made it painfully clear as to why he needed his two friends to help him out in these situations. Where had Sam gone? The only person near to a friend in this place was –

"Sir Coulson!" Steve exclaimed when the man came round the corner.

"What a coincidence!" said Philip. "My, you certainly made a scene back there. Did you really not know about the Carters?"

"What about the Carters?"

Coulson never had a chance to respond, for Sergeant Wilson approached from the other direction. "Cap, we have a problem."

Something about Sam's tone made Steve snap to attention. "What is it, Sam?"

"Follow me."

After they had traversed several winding hallways, Coulson asked, "You seem awfully familiar with the Foster estate, Sergeant Wilson. Where is it you are taking us?"

"To the aviary," Sam replied. "I had heard Lord Foster had an impressive one, and I asked one of the servants to show me, as it seemed Lord Foster himself was indisposed."

"I was not aware your interest in birds extended beyond the carrier pigeons," said Captain Rogers. "Although you did spend a lot of time in the coop."

"I am following the sound of the birds, not any knowledge of the estate itself."

Steve took a moment to listen, but in the great halls he heard nothing until they had reached a back door and opened it. The cacophony of squawking could now be heard clearly as they entered room walled in glass and filled with trees and plants of all types. Coulson ducked as a bird swooped close to his head.

"The room must be sound-proof," Steve said, "for no one to hear this racket from the hallway."

"No one?" Sam asked. "I heard it."

"This is an aviary? Looks more like a greenhouse," Coulson remarked. "It is lovely… but I am not certain as to why you brought us here…"

Steve and Coulson both saw, at the same moment, the way Sam listened to the birds, who now perched on his shoulders and outstretched arms.

"Sergeant? How….?" Steve had no other words.

"Do you not hear them?" Sam asked, his dark eyes troubled.

"Of course I can hear them." He shook his head. "Can you… understand them?"

Sam glanced at a zebra finch whose beak hovered in the air near his ear. "No. Only me, I'm afraid." He listened more. "Yes."

He turned to Captain Rogers and Sir Coulson. "Cap, there has been a murder."

XXXXX

"It appears Captain Rogers offended you," said the silken voice of Lord Laufeyson.

Sharon glared at the newcomer.

He put up his hands in mock surrender. "I apologize, miss. I am new to London. I have heard much of the captain's bravery and courage on the battlefields, thus I am surprised that he might have caused you such insult."

Sharon sighed. "I had assumed everyone knew." It had been the talk of London several years earlier, when Sharon was only twelve. Peggy had been so selfish, and now Sharon had to deal with the consequences. Now, with so many years passed, she could pretend her life was normal, a parade of parties and lovely men to dance with, but always the men revealed themselves only to be curious about _her_. She would never find a suitor at this rate, unless was a foreigner… a foreigner like Lord Laufeyson, freshly imported from Norway.

Lord Laufeyson lifted an eyebrow.

She knew what he wanted, and answered stiffly, "I do not like to air dirty laundry. Suffice it to say, I may have assumed Captain Rogers knew something he did not know."

No man liked a sharp-tongued woman, that was something her mother always told her. Most of the time she could hold her tongue… clearly this was a ruined evening already. She had slapped Captain Rogers. Her own father spoke highly of the Captain, and she had slapped him. She folded her arms. He had deserved it, that cad.

"It is clear this topic causes you some distress," said Lord Laufeyson, who Sharon was surprised to discover was still by her side. "I would like to change it, and inquire about your friend Miss Foster."

She smiled, relieved that he had overlooked her sharpness and was willing to have polite conversation with her, even if he was only interested in her friend. "Jane is a lovely girl," she said. "We were school-mates for many years. My father is a benefactor of the British Museum, where her father is a curator."

"Indeed, I am most curious to meet Lord Foster. I myself have studied antiquities. I hear there are some new acquisitions from Egypt?"

"Why, yes, Lord Foster told my father he had received several new shipments. Several of the items were quite curious… Did Jane tell you about them?"

"We've only had a few moments to speak," Lord Laufeyson said. "My brother is quite taken with her."

"Ah, so you are inquiring on his behalf then?" Sharon felt a little flutter as she realized that Lord Laufeyson might have an interest in her. Why else would a man endure all she had put him through? She smiled up at him. "I am certain they would make a good match. Jane might be shy, but she is very intelligent and kind."

"She mentioned that some of the antiquities are kept here, before going to the museum?"

"No, not usually, however these new items are so curious, Lord Foster is keeping them in his work room while he researches their origin. I've not seen them myself, but Father says they may change history!"

Loki's smile turned mischievous and his eyes twinkled. "Then what are we waiting for? Let us go find them."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Mission Compromised

The narrow staircase felt even more constricting on the way up. "Please, Natalia," he whispered. "Forgive me."

Her silence only made his nausea worse. He could only watch her mount the stairs before him, her black dress making her appear as a shadow.

"I do not know what came over me," he continued. "Please. I am so sorry."

They had nearly reached the top when she stopped and turned to him. He waited, head bowed. Her hands were empty now – the box was gone.

"James." Her fingers traced her jaw and lifted his chin. Her breath tickled against his ear. "Commander Strucker warned me about the effects of the cube. I do not blame you. However, we must deliver the artifact to him. Time is of the essence."

Her lips pressed against his, and it took every bit of his willpower not to reach for her again. The kiss held a promise, and now he had to clear his mind. The mission came first. Then Natalia. Forever Natalia.

The secret door and the underground chamber must have been sound-proof, for neither heard the voices that immediately stopped as soon as the false wall swung open. James and Natasha faced a couple who appeared to be in the midst of flirting: the lovely Miss Carter, whom Steve had been admiring earlier in the evening, and a tall, dark-haired man, who looked quite pleased.

"What have we here?" the man said. "A secret door? To a secret room? My, my, I cannot tell which is better, the secret room or what the two of you might have been doing in there!"

"Miss Romanov, I was not aware you were so well acquainted with Sergeant Barnes," said Miss Carter, giggling and clutching at the tall man's arm.

Natasha did not so much as blush. "Nor was I aware of your involvement with Lord Laufeyson."

Miss Carter's laughter dried up and she straightened. "I have only just made his acquaintance this evening."

"My," said Natasha coolly. "How quickly you make friends."

Lord Laufeyson was grinning and, James noticed, moving ever so subtly away from the lady in silver.

"Pray tell, Miss Romanov." Sharon voice could cause icicles to form. "What did you find in that secret room? I am simply curious. Or did you spend less time exploring the room than you did exploring Sergeant Barnes?"

Natasha did not reply. Instead she sauntered forward, until her nose was nearly touching Sharon's. "I should think one in your situation would be less eager to cast accusations."

"My _situation_?"

James started when he realized Lord Laufeyson was at his side. "I do so love a good catfight, eh, Sergeant Barnes?"

James glared at him.

Lord Laufeyson leaned in and said in a low voice, "Was there anything of interest down in that room?"

"All you'll find down there is a dead man," James said flatly.

"Nothing more?" Lord Laufeyson shrugged. This small movement had James suddenly alert: this man was dangerous. He knew about the cube. Then Laufeyson nodded at Natasha. "She would not, perhaps, have something in her possession at the moment?"

His fingers were twitching. What had he done with his gun?

"Looking for this?" Lord Laufeyson held up the revolver, that irritating grin on his face, and then the bastard pointed it at the back of Natasha's head.

"No!" James said. Sharon noticed the gun, and she shouted, "Lord Laufeyson! No!"

Natasha, on the other hand, remained still.

"I would thank you to hand over the artifact," Loki said, stepping forward until the muzzle of the gun pressed against Natasha's back. "The faster you do so, the less likely my finger is to slip and accidentally pull the trigger."

Slowly Natasha reached into the folds of her dress.

"Do not even think about using one of your many weapons on me," Loki warned. "I would certainly be grieved to make a mess on this lovely carpet."

Natasha removed the wooden box. She stared at it in her hands for a long moment.

"Give it to me," Lord Laufeyson commanded, and held out his other hand.

She made eye contact with James as she handed the box over. When Loki had the box, and had lowered his gun, James attacked.

First he kicked out at the gun hand, sending the firearm flying across the room. Then it was a swift jab to the face and a knee to the groin, and the box was flying out of Loki's grip. James ignored the box. He plowed a fist into Lord Laufeyson's stomach, causing the man to double over.

A bright blue glow filled the room.

James was in a fury now, but something was holding him back. Arms wrapped around his and hauled him up. He attempted to punch his way free.

"Bucky, settle down!" came Steve's voice through gritted teeth.

James' fight went out of him.

His best friends held him back, Steve and Sam and some other non-descript-looking fellow. "What on earth are you doing?" Steve asked. "Bucky?"

He looked up and saw that another man was helping Lord Laufeyson to his feet. In Loki's arms was the wooden box.

"This man attacked me," Lord Laufeyson said, sounding shaken. "He came out of that door there, and said he had killed a man, and then he attacked me."

"Bucky, no," said Steve. "Please tell me it wasn't you."

James could not speak. What Loki had said was technically true, and he was ashamed. He had not even thought about killing that man downstairs. He had simply done it, because that was part of the mission. He shook his head as though he could shake out the bad parts of himself.

"I'll take my box back now, thank you," said Natasha, looking as collected as ever.

"_Your_ box?" Lord Laufeyson exclaimed. He looked to the man beside him. "This woman is a thief. She and this Barnes fellow were stealing this from the Fosters. It is a valuable artifact belonging to the British National Museum."

Again, another truth. James hung his head and let Steve and Sam hold him up. On his periphery he could see Miss Carter standing there, unable to comprehend what was happening, even when Lord Laufeyson took her by the elbow and announced, "Come, Sharon. Let us go find Miss Foster."

In the silence that ensued, James could feel the weight of everyone's judgment. "Sit," Steve said, and pushed him down onto a couch. The cushion moved as Steve sat beside him. "Was it true, Buck? What Lord Laufeyson said?"

He could not lift his head for the shame. Through a tightness in his throat he replied, "Yes."

Steve took a deep breath, and put his arm around James's shoulders. James was not sure he could bear it – the weight of Steve's never-wavering friendship. He would stand by James no matter what crimes he committed. Somehow this was no comfort. He would never be the sort of man worthy of Steve's loyalty.

To the others, Steve said, "You two check the room. I'll keep an eye on Bucky and Miss... where is Miss Romanov?"

At her name, James smiled bitterly. Natasha had her mission. He was merely collateral damage. How could he have forgotten that about her?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Defenestration

Loki strode out of the room and made a quick left. Sharon glanced to the right, then asked, "What… what just happened in there? Who was murdered?" Gathering her skirts in her free hand, she struggled to keep up. The silver beaded heels she had slipped on earlier now seemed like a poor choice in footwear as she was dragged in Loki's wake. "Also… I thought we were taking this box to Jane?"

Lord Laufeyson tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her into the library, which was naturally deserted, as he had himself escorted Jane Foster from it earlier. He closed the door, leaving the small lamp on the table and the moon outside the great window to illuminate his face. "Are you at all familiar with the Foster Estate, Miss Carter?"

"I have visited many times," Sharon replied, unsure as to what Loki was after. "The ballroom was back that way, if you have become lost?"

"No, I have not become lost," Loki snapped.

Sharon did not understand the sudden change in Lord Laufeyson's demeanor. He had been flirting with her earlier, had he not? Moments before he had been the picture of righteous offense. Yet now his hand was hurting her arm.

"Kindly unhand me, sir," she said as gracefully as she could manage through gritted teeth.

"You might earn your freedom with information. Tell me, where might Lord Foster keep other artifacts?"

"I cannot believe you would threaten a lady!"

Loki pulled Sharon close and said in a low voice, "I'll do more than threaten if you refuse to tell me what I need to know."

"Perhaps these are questions you might ask Lord Foster himself. Or one of his servants. I am not privy to such knowledge!"

"Lord Foster is likely the unfortunate soul dead in the secret room," Loki said casually. "But you are correct - one of his servants might well know more than you. I will tell you this much: I seek an object which looks like a spear, and another which looks like a box, larger than this small trinket. Do either sound familiar to you?"

Sharon considered not telling Loki anything. Then she thought better of it. After all, he had held Miss Romanov at gunpoint to get this "trinket." Though Lord Laufeyson did not have the gun at present, she did not know what this man might do to her.

"Lord Foster has some unusual weapons on display in his study," Sharon said, hating herself. "Perhaps there is a spear among them. He told my father about some new acquisitions last week when they had tea."

"Where is his study?" Loki demanded.

"In the east wing. Furthest from the aviary."

Instead of releasing her, Loki pulled Sharon close and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, darling. You have been quite cooperative." He stroked a loose lock of her blonde hair. "Unfortunately, you also know too much."

Loki thrust Sharon at the large picture window. The glass shattered upon impact, barely slowing her two-story fall.

Loki took a deep breath, then opened the box in his hands and peeked at the radiant blue cube within. "Soon," he whispered to the tesseract. He was grinning wildly now. "Soon it will all be mine."

He looked out the window to catch a glimpse of his handiwork. Down on the dark lawn he saw only a wide spray of glinting glass and a pair of silver shoes.

XXXXX

The crash of glass caught Kate's attention. She had just finished applying a plaster to Clint's face, and had procured a chunk of ice from the kitchen staff. The crash caught everyone's attention, and most of the kitchen staff and other servants pushed open the door and tumbled outside to see. The only person who didn't seem to notice anything was Clint.

"Did you hear that?" she asked him.

He looked up at her. "Hear what?" he asked loudly. Too loudly.

"Come," she said, motioning with her arm. A split second later she thrust the chunk of ice wrapped in a handkerchief at him, then pushed her way through the throng of servants.

The servants were pointing at the window of the library, where a faint blue glow could be seen through a human-sized hole in the glass. "I saw a woman fall," one of the servants said. "I was out in the stable. Surely one would be dead if they fell so far – not disappeared."

"It were almost beautiful," said another, a young girl. "Her dress were silver, and it fluttered like angel wings."

Kate stopped, and turned away from the crowd. She slammed into Clint, who responded by grabbing her shoulders to steady her. "What's happened?" he asked.

"Sharon – I mean, Miss Carter – oh, toss it." She pushed Clint aside and took up his bow and quiver. "Someone pushed Sharon out of a window, and I mean to kill whoever did it."

Down in the secret room, Sir Coulson and Sam did not hear the great crash of the library window breaking. They had just discovered the body of Lord Foster.

"Indeed, this is Miss Jane's father," Sir Coulson said, removing a cloth from a nearby crate to cover the carnage of the man's blown-out skull. "Sergeant Wilson, if I might ask a favor."

Sam was more interested in the various ancient objects which filled the room: several sarcophagi, canopic jars, and mummified animals shared the space with other, more foreign items. "Certainly," Sam replied, running his gloved fingers along a box etched with unfamiliar symbols.

"Would you send one of your birds with a message?"

"My birds? Sir, these are not my birds."

Sir Coulson observed Sam's fascination with this box for a moment, then said, "Perhaps you ought not to touch that."

Sam looked at him, and dropped his hand.

"The birds in the aviary are trained much as your carrier pigeons. It seemed, earlier, that you could communicate with the birds somehow."

"I have always had an affinity for birds," Sam admitted. "The fellows in my company called me 'The Falcon.' I always understood birds... in the aviary, that was something different."

"I need you to send a message to Commander Fury of Her Majesty's Shield Division. Lord Foster was working with Shield to discern the origins of these artifacts, and he discovered some... interesting properties. Amplification of certain abilities, such as your communication with birds. Amplification of emotions, especially anger."

Sam took a step back from the box.

"We intercepted a message that members of Hydra, one of Shield's many enemies, would be here tonight. I am sorry to say, it appears your friend Sergeant Barnes has fallen in with Hydra. Shield has been watching him for some time now, after his capture."

"Damn," Sam said softly. "Bucky was a spy this whole time?"

"We suspect some sort of mind control, hypnosis. He may have been unaware of his actions until now. The important thing is getting the message to Commander Fury so Shield can take action."

"Sir Coulson, no disrespect, but we need to take action now. If Bucky is a spy for Hydra, what of Miss Romanov? There is also the matter of the artifact Lord Laufeyson has now in his possession."

"Yes." Sir Coulson nodded. "I am sure I can count on you and Captain Rogers to come to Shield's aid. I also have a few friends in attendance tonight. But first, we must let Commander Fury know so he can send reinforcements."

XXXXXX

Down in the ballroom, Jane wished someone was throwing her out of a window. She could not believe Loki had gone off with Sharon. He and his foster brother might not share blood, but they certainly shared other qualities.

"My lady, I fear something bothers you," Lord Odinson said. "Pray tell, have I offended you in some way?"

Jane considered how best to confront Thor on his behavior. At that moment, she caught sight of Darcy at the edge of the dance floor, gesturing wildly. Jane turned her face away.

"I fear I have not visited with many of my guests," Jane said.

"Ah! I have not been sharing. Of course, my lady." Thor immediately stopped dancing and bowed to Jane before kissing her hand. "Please. I do not wish to monopolize your time. Visit as you wish, and know that I will wait eagerly for my turn."

He smiled at Jane so sincerely that Jane felt confused. With her own eyes, she had seen him leave the ballroom with Darcy. Had she misunderstood something? Jane glanced back at Darcy. The girl was waved her arms and miming something. An explosion?

Jane took a deep breath. "Thank you, Lord Odinson." She curtseyed. Then she headed straight for Darcy.

"I thought you would never stop dancing with him," Darcy exclaimed before Jane could say a word. "I have been trying to get your attention for what feels like hours—"

"My chambers," Jane snapped. "Now."

Darcy stopped talking. Jane could see the moment when Darcy remembered that Jane was the mistress and Darcy was the servant. With a tight smile, Darcy dropped a curtsy and said, "Yes, miss."

Jane glanced back at her party. Thor gave her a wave, her mother shot her a dirty look, and every other person in the room ignored her. She glared at all of them as she made her way up the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Birthright

Lord Stark snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing servant and handed one off to Banner. "I ought not to be drinking," Banner said glumly, staring down into the glass.

"Nonsense. The rage has passed, and I believe a likely candidate has arrived," said Lord Stark, indicating the brunette in the crimson ballgown who had just entered the room. "That, my friend, is Miss Ross, daughter of Major General Thaddeus Ross. Quite a beauty. And, judging from the way she handles her father's temper, I think she might just be able to handle yours."

Bruce sipped his drink and shook his head. "How do you know all of these people?"

"Connections are necessary in my position. General Ross has some interest in weapons development, which is one of the more profitable outputs from my laboratory." Stark mulled something over in his head, then said, "General Ross is a blowhard."

"The sort of man certain to grate my nerves? Certainly I should stay away from Miss Ross, then."

Lord Stark spied Sir Coulson making his way toward them, and gave his friend a little push. "You'd best make your move now. Coulson looks to be on a mission."

Banner sighed, then handed off his drink and went after Miss Ross.

"Sir Coulson, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Stark said.

Coulson nodded to the glasses in each of Stark's hands. "I hope you have not had too many of those."

"I work better when lubricated."

Rolling his eyes, Coulson got to the point. "I have need of your services."

Stark nodded, then turned and beckoned to one of the servants milling about by the door. "Jarvis! I'll thank you to fetch my other suit."

"Straight away, Lord Stark."

Turning back to Coulson, Stark asked, "I take it from the blood on your glove that something terrible has befallen Lord Foster."

"As we suspected it might," Coulson confirmed. "I'd prefer to have the situation in hand before informing Lady Foster and her daughter, if you don't mind."

XXXXXXX

In the privacy of Jane's chambers, Darcy became petulant, folding her arms and glaring at Jane.

"Your behavior is reprehensible," Jane fumed. "This is my debut! My chance to find a husband! Not an opportunity for you to shame yourself, and me!"

"I was trying to help," Darcy said. "Lord Odinson is no good. I was saving you from falling in love with a philanderer!"

"That's an awfully big word for you," Jane said nastily, then flopped onto her bed. "I'm sorry. That was cruel."

"You saw the way he took one look at me and followed me out. He's a cad. You'd do better with someone else. What about Lord Banner? Or Captain Rogers?"

"Were you testing him?" Jane asked. "Perhaps if you had left well enough alone everything would have been fine. He would have had time to fall in love with me, and then he never would have looked at another woman."

Darcy raised her eyebrow.

"I'm still angry with you," Jane snapped.

"I have it on good authority that Lord Odinson is a lecher," Darcy said. "Please, Jane. Trust me."

" 'Good authority'? Whose authority?"

Darcy smiled smugly. "His brother."

"What?" Jane stood. "Lord Laufeyson said that? Why…" She thought about how Loki had come to her. "Why, Lord Laufeyson just wanted me for himself," she said.

"No, he said Lord Odinson was courting a lady back in Norway, and now the lady is in a delicate condition, and that is why they are here in London. To escape scandal," Darcy said.

"Don't be so simple! Lord Laufeyson clearly had other motives. He knew he would not stand a chance with me, seeing as how he's adopted. So he invented all these lies to trick me into disliking Lord Odinson."

"Uh… Lord Odinson still behaved exactly as his brother predicted," Darcy said.

"Please tell me you didn't," Jane said.

Before Darcy could say otherwise, there came a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Jane called.

The door opened, and Lady Foster entered. "Jane, honestly, you cannot disappear from your own party. Please. Lord Odinson keeps asking after you."

Jane and Darcy both sighed.

"He seems taken by you, and he is quite well-to-do," Lady Foster huffed. "Now, come downstairs at once. I will not have you disgrace this house."

"Yes, Mother," Jane said tiredly.

Once the door closed, Jane hissed, "Tell me what happened between you and Lord Odinson now, or so help me God, I will never speak to you again."

Darcy opened her mouth. There was another knock on the door.

"I am coming, Mother!" Jane snapped.

When there was no response, Jane marched to the door and flung it open.

Instead of her mother, her friend Sharon stood there, bleeding and shaking.

XXXXXXXX

"You cannot go running through a ball like this," Clint had said, and so he and Kate had taken the narrow flight of stairs meant for servants and found themselves in a labyrinthine maze of hallways between rooms.

"The large window was in the library," Kate whispered. "I'm sure Sharon's attacker has moved on from there. The only question is, where to?"

"How well do you know the layout of this house?" Clint asked.

"Stop. Do you hear that?" Kate pressed her ear against the wall. Low voices rumbled on the other side.

"…not your fault, Bucky. Don't be so hard on yourself…"

Who the hell was Bucky? She listened harder but couldn't hear anything more distinct. She filed away the possibility that this Bucky person might have pushed Sharon, although in this case it might have been an accident.

"Let's go," Kate said, and continued until they came to a door that led into the hallway proper. They emerged just in time to see a door close farther down the hall.

They looked at each other, and silently agreed upon the course of action.

Kate could hear nothing on the other side of the door. She stepped back and fitted an arrow to the bow string. Clint looked at her. She nodded. With a kick, the door flew open. Clint drew his knives and entered with Kate covering his back.

"My, my, Lord Barton." The speaker's voice oozed with velvety softness. "And Miss Bishop!"

Clint let down his guard, but Kate continued to enter with an arrow at the ready. Once she passed beyond the door, she could see Lord Laufeyson, elbow resting upon the mantle of the fireplace, the picture of nonchalance. That, in itself, was suspicious, given that the door breaking open would have given anyone else a heart attack.

"This is quite a compromising situation we find ourselves in," Lord Laufeyson continued. "Especially for you, Miss Bishop. Unchaperoned, alone, with not one, but two men? My, my, my."

He smiled.

"Your concern is touching," Kate replied sarcastically. She trained her sights on Loki's chest. "I find it more compromising that we find you alone immediately after Miss Carter was pushed from a window."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "That is unfortunate for her," he said. He glanced down, and Kate now noticed the exotic-looking spear in his other hand. The shape of it was so foreign she could not even begin to guess at what ancient civilization might have created it. The hooks over the fireplace were empty.

"You mean to steal from Lord Foster?" Kate asked.

"Not quite," Loki said. "If you might put down your weapon, I can show you what I mean to do."

Kate adjusted her aim. "Not bloody likely. Put down your weapon, sir."

"Lord Barton, perhaps you can talk some sense into this woman you have chosen to court?"

Clint gaped. "I'm not… we're not…"

Kate rolled her eyes.

Loki raised his arms. "I understand." He leaned the spear against the mantle. It was nearly as tall as he was. "Now, please." He smiling winningly at Kate with his hands raised.

"Oh, fine," she said, and lowered her weapon. "Please, explain to me how you are not a thief."

Loki held up a small wooden box. He opened it to show them.

The cube was unlike anything Kate had ever seen. It glowed and pulsed with alien energy. She found herself entranced by it.

With a gloved hand, Loki removed the cube and placed it in the center of the pattern on the end of the spear. Kate had not noticed before the way it could fit there, like a missing puzzle piece. The spear seemed to jump to life, the golden metal of the weapon gleaming and purifying and humming.

"Lord Foster had no idea what manner of artifact this was," Loki said. As the spear moved in his hands, so followed Kate and Clint's gazes. "Even I do not know the full extent of its power. What I do know, however, is that it belonged to my father, and his father before him."

"I thought you were adopted," Clint said, his voice slow and unconcerned.

"Adopted by the enemies of my father!" Loki spat out. "This," he gestured to the glowing spear, "This is my birthright."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Discoveries

While Sam went to send a messenger pigeon, Captain Rogers stayed with Sergeant Barnes as instructed by Sir Coulson. He kept his arm around his friend, for James was shaking. Steve could barely comprehend that his best friend since childhood had committed a cold-blooded murder.

"Who made you do this?" Steve asked finally.

"No one made me," James said. "I knew what I was doing when I killed him."

Steve shook his head. "I know you, Bucky. You'd never kill an unarmed man. Was it Miss Romanov? Did she convince you to do this?"

"I did it on my own!" James shrugged out from under Steve's arm. His eyes glowered from beneath his dark hair. "I'm not the person you think I am, Steve."

"No," Steve said. "This is not your fault, Bucky. Don't be so hard on yourself. Sir Coulson mentioned that this cube does something to people near it. Maybe it affected you." He grappled with the right words to make this all right.

James gripped the cushions of the couch. "No." His knuckles were white. "I remember now, what happened when I was captured. I was gone for a year. A _year_. They did things to me." His voice shook. "Terrible things. They made me one of them."

"Hydra?"

"Yes."

"This isn't your fault," Steve repeated. He reached out, and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You have a choice now. You can choose to defy their orders and do what is right."

"I can't!" James stood, throwing off Steve's hand. "Natalia said two words in my ear and I went in and murdered someone! You don't know what other words might set me off! I could be programmed to kill you!"

"You would never kill me," Steve said quietly.

James looked at his best friend with drowning eyes. "I might."

"You won't." Steve stood and wrapped his arms around James. "I would never let you."

XXXXXX

"What happened? Who did this to you?" The questions poured out of Jane, not giving any time for Sharon to answer. When she had to pause for breath, and realized that Sharon was not going to answer, she turned to Darcy. "We'll need some hot water and fresh dressings."

She helped Sharon to her bed. Poor Sharon's dress was in ribbons. She had cuts all over, and bruises already starting to form on her shoulder and cheeks. "Sharon," Jane said quietly. "Are you all right?"

Finally Sharon spoke. "Surprisingly, yes." She looked confused. "He pushed me out of a window. And I am fine. I'm not dead." She looked at Jane. "I'm not dead?"

"No, you are still quite alive," Jane said. She dabbed at some blood on Sharon's face with her handkerchief. "Which window?"

In her head she knew there was another question she ought to be asking.

"The library," Sharon replied. Her brow furrowed, then she looked closely at Jane. "Lord Laufeyson," she said.

Jane felt sick. "What about him?"

"He was the one who pushed me. I… I don't know why. No. I do know. He was asking me questions. About your father, and… artifacts. I told him everything I knew… he was hurting me. Threatening me. He threatened Miss Romanov as well. Then he pushed me." Sharon looked down at her hands. They were dirty, and covered in small cuts. She curled her fingers into fists. "I survived."

"Yes," Jane said. Her mind was still on Sharon's accusation. Lord Laufeyson had done this. Jane had figured that one out but hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. Of course it was Loki. She had seen him go off with Sharon. Obviously it had been him. And yet she still couldn't wrap her brain around her own emotions.

Part of her was flattered that Loki would go to all the trouble of convincing her that his brother was a cad, so he could have Jane all to himself. The other part of her was suspicious. He clearly wanted something that he hadn't gotten from her. Hadn't he asked her about artifacts as well? And when she hadn't given him the right answer, he had gone to Sharon. Look how Sharon had paid for the wrong answer.

"Oh, God," Sharon said suddenly.

"What is it? What hurts?"

"It's your father." She looked at Jane with wide eyes. "Jane, your father is dead."

XXXXX

With Jane gone, Lord Odinson might have been bored if not for Lord Stark.

He couldn't quite gather what was going on, with the servants rushing about and several guests leaving, and of course Loki was missing so Thor assumed his brother was up to mischief again. He should have known better, the way Loki was so keen to come to the Foster debut. Loki was never keen to do anything unless it served himself.

Now Stark's footman was wheeling in boxes and servants were pulling out metal pieces shaped like arms and legs, all in a burnished red.

"What's all this about, then?" he asked, sidling up to Stark's side.

"Oh, you will see," Stark said.

Sir Coulson came over then. "Lord Stark, you are making a scene."

Stark spread his arms. "I am a scene."

Coulson rolled his eyes.

"You are putting on some kind of show, then?" Thor asked.

Coulson sized up Thor. "You seem like the heroic type. Would you be so kind as to help me with a little problem?"

"Certainly," Thor said, although he was far more interested in this metal man of Stark's.

"There are men here who do not belong here. Should you notice anyone of that sort skulking about, please escort them from the building. Also, Miss Romanov is of interest. Have you met Miss Romanov yet? Bright red hair? A black gown?"

"I had noticed her," Thor said.

"Please detain her, should you see her. And use caution. Some call her the Black Widow, like the spider."

"Is she deadly?" Thor joked. Coulson's face showed no humor, and Thor's smile faded. "Noted."

"Thank you, Lord Odinson," Coulson said, and disappeared into the crowd.

Stark had the entire metal man laid out on the dance floor. Naturally, everyone had stopped dancing. "You are all about to witness the sort of advances toward the future made possible by Stark industries," Tony announced. "Jarvis, if you will."

Jarvis stepped out and lifted one of the metal legs.

"Is it a statue?" asked someone from the crowd.

Jarvis approached Lord Stark and pressed a button on the metal leg. It opened with a clang.

"Tis a boot," Thor guessed.

"You're not wrong," Stark said before jamming his foot inside. Jarvis closed the metal around his leg. Quickly, Jarvis fastened the other leg on in a similar fashion, then recruited two other servants for help with the bodice pieces.

"Ah, it is a suit of armor!" Thor smiled at the crowd, who nodded and clapped.

XXXXX

Coulson hurried from the ballroom. He had one other person to recruit, but for the life of him he had no idea where Lord Barton might be. He also had no idea where Miss Romanov might have gone off to. Hoping that Sergeant Wilson's bird would carry the message to Commander Fury before he stumbled across any Hydra soldiers, Coulson scoured the bottom floor, then headed up the stairs and began checking rooms there.

Having opened a door and walked in on three days, two of whom appeared deeply upset, he muttered, "Oops, deeply sorry," and made for a quick exit, only to find that he now shared the hallway.

"Lord Laufeyson," Coulson said. The tip of the spear in Loki's grasp glowed blue. Coulson eyed it warily. "If you are still seeking to return that artifact to Miss Foster, she is in this very room." He jerked his head toward the door.

The situation had been bad enough when he only had to worry about Hydra. Lord Laufeyson was a foreigner, and Commander Fury had not mentioned to look out for him in this mission. Oh, and there was Lord Barton, stumbling into the hallway behind Loki, with Kate Bishop in tow. Naturally, Lord Barton _would_ be in the thick of the trouble.

"I've decided I rather like this particular artifact," Lord Laufeyson said. "Now, unless you'd like to discover what it can do, I'd suggest you get out of my way."

"Apologies, my lord," Coulson said. "Unfortunately, I've been tasked with keeping that artifact out of enemy hands."

Loki cocked his head. "Are we enemies, Sir Coulson?"

"We do not have to be. If you would be so kind as to hand over the spear, we might have many more civil meetings in our future."

Loki looked down at the spear. The blue light gave his face a sickly sheen and made his eyes look half-crazed. Then he looked up at Coulson.

"I would love to," Loki said, extending the spear, "have you out of my way NOW." He thrust it forward, and blue light shot out of the tip and hit Coulson in the chest. That was the last thing Coulson remembered.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Challenge

"What was that?" Jane exclaimed.

Sharon seemed too shell-shocked to even respond to the strange and jarring sounds coming from the hallway right outside. Jane went and opened the door, standing with her hands on her hips and assessing the scene before her.

There was Lord Laufeyson, holding the spear that hung over the desk in her father's office. On his face he wore a smile that faded when he saw her.

Behind Loki stood Miss Bishop and Lord Barton. Lord Barton had a knife in one hand and three knives in the other. Miss Bishop had the remains of a bow. Both stared at her with mouths open.

Finally, Jane noticed Sir Coulson lying slumped against the wall.

Before Jane could even speak, Loki said, "Miss Foster, I offer my deepest apologies! I had no idea what this weapon could do!"

"Might you put it down, then?" Jane said. She looked at Lord Barton. "And perhaps you could put down those knives as well."

Kate and Clint held their breaths, most likely recalling that it was a polite demand to put down the spear that had gotten the man killed. Clint crouched slowly to place the knives on the floor, watching Loki the entire time.

"But of course, my lady," Lord Laufeyson said, and leaned it against the wall.

Kate and Clint exhaled.

Sir Coulson inhaled.

"He's alive!" Kate shouted, and shoved past Loki to offer her aid. Clint followed more cautiously, giving Loki a wide berth and never looking away.

Jane realized she was shaking. "Lord Laufeyson, I cannot even begin to express my anger at you this moment."

Loki's eyebrows shot up. "Why, whatever have I done to upset you? This," he gestured to the injured man and the knives on the floor, "is all just a misunderstanding."

"Was pushing Sharon out of a window an accident too?" Jane demanded.

Loki reached behind him and picked up the spear. "I must be going," he said. "There is one thing I mean to do tonight…" He paused, and looked at Jane. He stepped closer until there was barely a breath between them. "Two things. I mean to court you, Jane Foster. You will be my queen." Then he pivoted and strode past Coulson toward the ball room.

"My queen?" Jane repeated, blinking.

"He belongs in the loony bin!" Clint said. He stood. "Lucky for us, that spear isn't deadly, but it certainly has some punch. Coulson's coming around."

Sharon had made her way to the door, arms wrapped around herself. "Does he mean to kill the queen?" Jane asked. "I don't understand."

"He said that spear was his birthright," Kate said. "Whatever it means, we must stop him."

Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes came around the corner then. "What happened?" Steve asked. "I heard a loud - Miss Carter, are you all right?"

"Now that we are all assembled," came Coulson's weak voice from the floor, "perhaps I can explain."

XXXXXXX

"Ah, brother!" Thor waved at his brother, who was now descending the staircase. "Come and see the Iron Man!"

From within the suit of armor a tinny voice corrected, "It is more of a brass alloy than iron," but Thor was not listening. He had just noticed what Loki carried.

"Brother, where have you been? And how did you get that?"

In response, Loki thrust the spear at him, and Thor found himself thrown halfway across the room. The crowd gasped and jumped out of the way.

Thor's head reeled. He recognized the spear from school days spent learning mythology. "Gungnir," he groaned.

"Gunsundheit," said Lord Stark, who then raised one arm. A blast came from the wrist, shooting a stream of fire straight at Loki.

"No!" Thor grunted, and pushed himself up.

Loki laughed. The flame did not reach as far away as he stood. "Oh, my brother, I am touched by your concern for my safety. Little do you realize, I am here to kill you."

"Kill me?" Thor swayed on his feet.

"Yes, naturally. I cannot live in your shadow any longer while I am destined to rule!" He lifted the spear again, but the blue light that shot out of it was blocked by a man-shaped block of metal.

"Lord Laufeyson, I beg your pardon," Lord Stark said, no worse for being hit with the spear's power. "I can hardly believe that you, a gentleman, would simply kill your brother in this manner. If you are interested in a duel, it must be a fair fight."

"Fair?" Loki growled. "What of my life has been fair? My birthright, stolen from me, by his father, destroyed!"

"I'm simply saying that it should be a fair fight. Have we another spear for Lord Odinson?"

"This spear belongs to me!" Loki roared.

"That is not true, brother!" Thor said. "That spear belongs to Odin. By birthright, it is mine."

Lord Stark raised his hands. "Then the duel shall be for possession of the spear. Yes? Have we a couple of swords for the two gentlemen?"

Servants scurried forth with swords. Loki looked at the weapon with disdain.

"Now, now, Lord Laufeyson. I am a neutral party. I will hold the spear for the victor."

"Do you think I am an idiot?"

Stark shrugged, not that anyone could see his shoulders move beneath the metal armor. "That spear doesn't seem all that powerful. And I am certain Miss Foster would prefer a gentlemanly match."

Loki flinched at Miss Foster's name, and followed Lord Stark's gaze to the staircase, where Jane now stood.

"Fine," Loki said, lifting his chin. He handed the spear off to Lord Stark and accepted the sword. "Lord Odinson, my adopted brother, I challenge you to a duel for the Gungnir spear and for the hand of Miss Jane Foster."

Jane gasped audibly. The crowd pressed back in.

"A duel to first blood, then," Lord Stark announced.

"NO!" Loki shouted. "A duel to the death!"

"Brother, please! I do not know what I have done to cause such offense, but surely we can solve this without death."

"If you duel to first blood only, you reveal yourself to be a coward," Loki spat. "A true man would agree."

"Now, now, Lord Laufeyson," Stark interjected. "The Code Duello states that a fight until the opponent is disabled or disarmed determines the winner. Surely we can all behave like gentlemen? We have ladies present."

Loki snarled, glaring at Thor.

"I agree to these terms," Thor said.

"Go on, play the reasonable gentleman," Loki hissed, then raised his voice. "I agree as well - until the opponent is disarmed or disabled. Let us get on with the duel, then."

XXXXXXXX

Jane watched as handkerchiefs were dropped to mark the dueling area. Her guests were chattering loudly and many were staring at her openly - her own fault for standing there on the staircase, gawping. She closed her mouth. How had her debut gone so wrong after such a lovely start?

Darcy ran to Jane's side, holding bandages and a steaming teakettle. "What are they doing?" she cried.

"Dueling for my hand in marriage," Jane said bitterly. "Also, Lord Laufeyson wants to kill his brother and pushed Sharon out of a window."

"What?" Darcy dropped everything she was holding.

Jane frowned. "I understand that you are concerned for the life of your lover," she snapped.

"Oh, not this again," Darcy muttered. She crouched down at picked up the bandages and righted the tea kettle.

"Yes, this again! What exactly passed between you and Lord Odinson?"

"Nothing," Darcy murmured.

"What was that?"

Darcy sighed. "Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Are you satisfied? He followed me out of the ballroom for the tray of appetizers. That man eats like a horse."

This changed everything. Jane looked down at Lord Odinson, to whom she had been so rude, all because of a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding perpetuated by Lord Laufeyson. "This night has gone horribly, terribly wrong," Jane said.

"I'll say," Darcy said. "I was looking forward to a taste of that fine Norwegian beefsteak."

"Darcy!"

XXXXXXXXXX

Natasha had made her way back to the ballroom. She refused to report the mission as failed to the Baron, especially not knowing his particular brand of punishment. No, this mission was not complete yet.

That Lord Laufeyson had slipped off with the target so easily. She had followed him from a distance, wondering what might have become of Sharon when he exited the library alone. She should have overtaken him after that. Instead, she had waited, and then Bishop and Barton had stumbled onto the scene. Better to let them do the heavy work and she could steal in afterwards. Only somehow Loki had gotten the upper hand again, and with all the people Natasha had wound her way back downstairs.

Now here was Loki, in the middle of the ballroom, brandishing a sword. Nat shook her head, unable to comprehend what this man's endgame was. She had a direct mission: find the target, bring it to the Baron. End of story.

There was a lot going on here. Everyone was watching the show in the center of the dance floor. Loki and his brother, with swords raised. A duel - it was enough to distract her from the greater spectacle, being Lord Stark. She knew he was inside of the metal statue. Some kind of mechanical armor. The Baron had given her files on him, as he did some work for Her Majesty's Shield.

And he was now holding a glowing blue spear.

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

Target acquired.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: The Duel

"We're going to need some new weapons," Captain Rogers said, looking at the broken bow in Kate's hand.

"Lord Foster isn't much of a weapons man, but he does have a small collection ," Kate said.

"Lead the way."

Kate led them into the room Lord Foster's office. The spear that had hung over the mantle was obviously missing, but the walls and shelves held an assortment of other weapons. Clint took two archery bows from their racks. Though the bows had clearly been fashioned by some extinct civilization, the bows seemed sturdy enough. "No arrows, though," Kate noticed.

"There are plenty in my quiver," Clint said, lifting the strap from Kate's shoulder. He counted the feathered fletchings . "Well, there are eleven. Should be enough. There's only one Lord Laufeyson ."

"You forget, we are also dealing with an unknown number of Hydra agents," said Coulson. He leaned heavily against the desk.

Sergeant Barnes flinched. Steve put a hand on James's arm. "We know of two, and this one is on our side now," he said.

"And we know of Miss Romanoff," Coulson said, "But we do not know if there are others. Or do we, Sergeant Barnes?"

For a long moment, James was silent. Finally he said, "We were supposed to bring the artifact to Baron von Strucker ."

Coulson's body went rigid. "The Baron is here?"

James nodded.

"He cannot be. We would have recognized him... His face is horrifically scarred," he explained to Steve, Clint, and Kate. "He cannot be here," he repeated to Sergeant Barnes.

"I did not see him, but he is here," James insisted. "Perhaps wearing a disguise of some sort? Natasha and I were to give him the artifact ." He thought for a moment, furrowing his brow . "I do not know what his plan was, or is, but there was no extraction plan."

"And then Lord Laufeyson interfered." Coulson closed his eyes.

"We need to get control of the artifact," Steve said decisively. He looked up at a coat of arms on the wall and pulled it down. Two swords, one shield. He handed off one sword to Sergeant Barnes and kept the other sword and shield for himself. Something about the shield on his arm felt right.

"And find the Baron," Clint said. "If the Baron was planning to use the artifact, we need to remove him as a threat."

Captain Rogers took comm and. "Sir Coulson, stay here with Miss Carter. When Sam - Sergeant Wilson - returns, send him after us. Sergeant Barnes and I will seek to take the artifact from Lord Laufeyson by force. Lord Barton and Miss Bishop can cover us from the balcony and look for Baron von Strucker . "

"We don't know what he looks like," Kate said. "Not if he's wearing a disguise."

"Then look for Miss Romanov. She may lead you to him." The sound of clanging swords carried through the empty hallway. "Let's move."

XXXXXXXXX

"You are crushing my hand."

Distantly, Lord Banner heard the words, but it was another matter entirely to make his hand unclench. "Apologies, my lady," he managed to say through gritted teeth.

Miss Ross extracted her hand and then, to Banner's surprise, looped her arm through his. "This duel has nothing to do with you," she said. "Why have you become so angry?"

"Lord Stark," Banner muttered. Louder, and in a hopefully more civilized tone, he said, "My friend, Lord Stark. He ought to have told me straightaway that Sir Coulson called upon him. We work as a team. And now, see, he is involved in this duel, and wearing that infernal metal suit..."

"The suit is quite interesting. I suppose it allows him to fight on even ground with you?"

Bruce looked at Miss Ross in surprise.

"Your reputation precedes you," Miss Ross said with a little smile. "They say you are nearly invincible in a fight."

"I have never lost a fight," said Lord Banner.

"Instead of being angry that Lord Stark did not call upon you for help, perhaps you could offer your help without him asking?"

Banner winced a little. He supposed Miss Ross was correct: he shouldn't wait for Stark to ask him for help every time. Also, if Coulson had called upon Stark but not Banner, there might be a reason.

Scrunching up his nose, Bruce looked at Miss Ross. The lady was quite lovely. He only wished there wasn't a duel going on, so he might have another chance to waltz with Miss Ross... as it was, he'd been so nervous he'd tripped all over her. He was actually surprised that she continued to stay by his side.

She smiled at him. "Go on," she encouraged.

A movement behind Miss Ross drew his attention away from Miss Ross's pretty blue eyes. A blur of red and black. Miss Romanov.

XXXXXXX

"My, what a large scepter you have," said a female voice.

Tony could hardly turn his head to look, but recognized the Russian accent. "All the better to impale you with, " Tony said. Ordinarily he might have been ashamed at the crassness of his humor. Miss Romanov's response put him at ease.

"I wonder if I might see how it feels in my hands," Miss Romanov purred. "It looks so thick and hard."

Tony was feeling pretty hard now as well.

"By all means, lady," he managed to say without betraying himself. Of all the ladies at the ball, he never imagined a woman of Miss Romanov's beauty to come on to him so strongly. In fact, he'd never had a woman come on to him so strongly and obviously.

Natasha smiled coyly and put her hand on the staff, sliding it up and down. Beneath the metal mask Tony's eyebrows shot up.

Then she did attempt to take the scepter.

"My Lord, I cannot..." Miss Romanov released a breathy laugh. "It appears you enjoy handling the scepter yourself. As a warning, I hear tell that handling your own staff leads to blindness. "

"I am not even trying to hold it," Tony said, flustered. He had managed to pry his metal fingers from the rod, but it remained firmly attached to his hand. "Uh... there appears to be some kind of malfunction... There are magnets, you see..."

"A likely story," Natasha said. She pulled at the staff and preceded to pull Tony's entire body forward several inches.

A clang nearby caused both parties to jump.

"Do not touch that spear!" This was Lord Laufeyson , snarling the command even as he parried an attack from Thor.

"Yes, yes, it's your birthright," Tony said flatly. "You mentioned that."

Thor took advantage of Loki's distraction and hit him with the flat of his sword in the arm. Loki responded with a series of downward slashes that had Thor backing up to the boundaries of the duel.

"Miss Romanov, I would never have taken you as someone interested in ancient Norwegian artifacts," Stark said, noting that Natasha still had her hands on the staff.

"There is quite a lot you don't know about me," Natasha said.

"Lord Stark!" Thor managed to say, blocking Loki's furious attack. "Sir Coulson warned us about Miss Romanov! Were you not listening?"

Natasha froze. Stark looked at her. "I suppose I was a bit preoccupied at that time."

They stood there, locked in a staring contest, until suddenly Natasha released the scepter, lifted her skirts, and raced toward the door.

Tony cursed inside his metal mask, knowing he could never outrun her in the suit - not even if the steam-powered wheels embedded in his shoes were in working condition - and then he saw that Natasha had come to a complete halt.

She had crashed into the wall that was Bruce Banner. He gripped her tiny wrist.

"I do not believe my friend Lord Stark is finished speaking with you," Banner said. He spun Miss Romanov to face Stark again. "Are you?"

"He isn't the only one," huffed Captain Rogers, arriving on the scene with Sergeant Barnes in tow.

Tony spun around. Damn the lack of peripheral vision in this suit!

XXXXXX

"Oh, I cannot watch this," Jane said, burying her face in her hands.

"No blood yet," Darcy reported. "They are quite evenly matched. I must say, as far as balls go, I am certain this will be the most talked about for quite some time."

Jane moaned. "Darcy, please. Attend to Sharon, and Sir Coulson."

"Fine." That note of disappointment in Darcy's voice hung in the air long after she had gone.

Sinking down, Jane sat on the stairs. It seemed unreal, all of it. Most of all, her father's death. She felt tears prick at her eyes. Her father had been distant for months, spending most of his time down in that secret room. She should have known he was dealing in dangerous things. Over recent weeks, Lord Foster had been pale and sickly and always appeared tired. Jane's debut had been her mother's distraction from whatever ailed her father.

And he had been murdered. By none other than Sergeant Barnes.

She watched Barnes enter the ballroom at the side of Captain Rogers, the esteemed war hero.

It was too much. She could no longer bear it. She stood, and sweeping up her skirts, she headed back into the house.

XXXXXXX

Loki saw the mayhem on the sidelines and was forced to ignore it - Thor was a master of swords. Loki's saving grace was that they had been raised together and taught together. He knew Thor's signature moves and which side he favored. While Thor was a talented swordsman, his strength was all physical. Loki, having none of Thor's muscular bulk, had been forced to develop strategy.

He'd been momentarily distracted when he first saw Miss Romanov try to take the scepter. Now his left arm was numb. He would certainly have a bruise, and her could scarcely lift the limb, but Thor's move had revealed his ultimate weakness: Thor did not want to hurt his brother.

Loki grinned.

But when he glanced back at where Jane had been watching from the stairs, he saw that she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: The Duel, continued

"I always did enjoy a good duel," said Kate. She and Clint had found an inconspicuous spot along the banister where they could scan the crowd for the unknown scarred man and Miss Romanov. The red-haired spy had made herself known almost immediately, and it seemed Sir Coulson's friends, the lords Stark and Banner, had the situation under control. That left Kate and Clint to hunt through the crowd for someone neither had ever met.

"That man there, with the eye patch, he looks suspicious," Clint responded.

Kate glanced at him. "It is only Commander Fury. Sir Coulson mentioned he might arrive shortly." She focused back to the fighting. "Lord Odinson is a fearsome fighter, but Lord Laufeyson is quite quick on his feet."

"What about him? The one in the green waistcoat?"

"That outfit certainly sounds dangerous," Kate replied. She glanced at the man in question. "Lord Maximoff. He is odd, but not dangerous."

"That man there - "

"Lord Barton, please. Have you honestly not met Baron Lehnsherr ?"

"I am only trying to find this von Strucker fellow."

Kate sighed and sighted down her own arrow. "It makes more sense to me to pay attention to this duel, considering that the winner will gain control of the staff in Lord Stark's hand," she said.

Clint grunted and grudgingly shifted his aim.

Lord Odinson had taken advantage of a moment of Lord Laufeyson's distraction to hit him in the head with the broad side of his sword. Loki reeled and fell to one knee, but raised his sword arm to defend from Thor's next attack.

"There! By that pillar!"

Before Kate could even see the man in question, Clint had loosed an arrow which pinned the man's top hat to the wooden pillar. In surprise, the dark-haired man jerked away, revealing that his full head of black hair had also been a victim of Clint's arrow. Now his badly burned bald scalp showed for all to see. He glanced up at Kate and Clint's hiding place, then turned and darted through the back of the crowd.

"Let's go," Clint said, darting away.

Kate blinked. Did Clint honestly expect a lady to go chasing after a villain in her enormous ballgown? She sighed and followed after him as quickly as her skirts would allow.

XXXXXXX

At first Jane hadn't known where she was headed when she left the ballroom. Then she found herself outside of the sitting room. She entered and stared at the open door to her father's secret room.

She had not been down in that room in months. It used to be where her father would put precious artifacts before cataloging for the British Museum, and he would allow Jane free rein over the place. She had grown up leafing through ancient texts and transcribing hieroglyphs. More recently, her father had forbidden her from going into the room. "These artifacts are extremely rare," he had told her, as though she were a child. Jane was obedient, and therefore she had obeyed her father's rule, despite the curiosity that ate away at her.

Now she knew what sort of artifacts her father had hidden down here. She descended the stairs with a small oil lamp to light the way. Her father had feared thieves more than Jane's clumsiness. Apparently, the artifact had some kind of hold over the minds of those nearby. It had turned Lord Laufeyson into something of a monster. He had attempted murder, and Sergeant Barnes had actually murdered in pursuit of it.

Jane rounded the corner into the room and saw the figure lying prone on the floor.

It felt unreal. It could have been anyone lying there with the cloth over his face. Then she recognized her father's waistcoat, with his pocket watch spilling from his vest. The hands on the watch ticked on. This was the detail which brought tears to Jane's eyes. The watch should have stopped when her father's heart had stopped. Yet time still went on.

By the blood on the cloth, Jane knew she ought not to remove it from her father's face, but she could not stop herself. It all felt too strange. She was a scientist at heart, and she needed the proof that her father was in fact dead. She lifted the cloth and immediately looked away.

Yes, beneath the blood and gore she could see her father staring out blankly. As she forced herself to look, a fly landed on the unblinking eye. She shooed it away and replaced the cloth.

Her blurry gaze landed on an ancient Japanese katana blade from the Koto period. She found the sword in her hands. The curved blade was lightweight and graceful and both of her hands fit on the long grip. She sliced the sword through the air and imagined it slicing neatly through the neck of Sergeant Barnes.

No, she couldn't...

She looked at her father's body. He deserved much more than this. He was a respected man in London, intelligent and he had always been one to encourage Jane's education over her mother's desire for Jane to be enrolled in etiquette classes and spend her spare hours doing endless needlepoint.

Jane sniffed, her face crumpled in a way her mother would be sure to say was ugly. "Ladies must take care to cry attractively," Lady Foster had said once during the funeral of Jane's grandmother . "Allow the tears to roll down your cheeks and blot them gently with a handkerchief."

Jane rubbed at the tears with her glove, smearing the subtle brown eyeliner she had allowed Darcy to apply early this evening. The make up left a stain on the white satin fabric. She sniffed and looked at the blade.

Yes.

XXXXXX

Sergeant Wilson overheard the voices on his way back through the hallway, after finding the sitting room empty. He followed them to what appeared to be Miss Jane's chambers. Sir Coulson sat on an armchair beside the fireplace with his hand in his hands, and Miss Carter lay on the bed, shielding her eyes from the light with her arm slung over her face.

As when he had seen her in the ballroom, Miss Carter was simply the loveliest woman he had ever seen. Her hair, with its streaks of blood, fanned out over the pillow, still had its golden curls. The cuts and bruises on her face only made the glow of her skin that much more apparent. And she had spirit, as he had seen when Sharon had slapped Steve across the face. Sam smiled just remembering it.

"Where are the others?" he asked when Sir Coulson had finally noticed Sam's presence.

"The situation is a bit worse than previously thought," Coulson said. "Lord Laufeyson has the artifact in his possession, and he knows more about its properties than even Her Majesty's Shield. He has attacked both Miss Carter and me, and we do not know the whereabouts of Miss Romanov nor Baron von Strucker , who Sergeant Barnes informed us is the mastermind behind the Hydra plot."

"Damn," Sam said softly. "I still can't believe Barnes would do that. Murder in cold blood."

"He was under Hydra control. Your friend Captain Rogers seems able to keep him in line, but until we find von Strucker he's a liability."

Sam looked over at Sharon, who hadn't moved. "Is... she alright?" he asked.

"_She_ is fine," Sharon said without moving her arm. "Despite being hurled from a window."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? No, you cannot be serious. You would have broken bones. A broken neck. You would be near to death."

Sharon moved her arm and hauled herself to a sitting position. "Ugh. I feel near to death, but no such injuries. Sir Coulson believes it has to do with the artifact. Somehow it made me stronger, or more nimble? I managed to turn myself around as I fell and landed such that I rolled and was able to immediately get up and run inside." She pushed her hand through her hair. Watching as little pieces of glass fell out, she said, "I wanted to kill that bastard with my bare hands."

"I have no doubt you could do it," Sam said.

"Do you really think so?"

"I saw the way you put Captain Rogers in his place earlier." Sam grinned and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

XXXXXX

Loki reeled. His ears rang and he could scarce find his balance and Jane was gone and he was so goddamn tired of Thor always having the upper hand, always being the favorite. He lashed out, again and again, pushing Thor back toward the handkerchiefs that marked the out of bounds.

If Jane had not left, she might have noticed how Loki fought equally as well as his brother, despite the difference in size. She might have admired how quick he was, how clever. If Jane had not left, Loki might have hesitated. After all, Thor _was_ Loki's brother.

_Foster brother_, he reminded himself, as he thrust the tip of his sword into Thor's side.


End file.
